#I feel like I've forgotten how to add tags somehow

[alloru]

aaand here's how this piece ended up!

I mainly used this as colouring practice and how to make the character I'm drawing stand out from the background more. I think I succeeded in that, but I probably could've made the rimlight a little more noticable here

the background also has a nice painterly vibe to it, which I enjoy a lot. maybe there'll be more of that in the future :>

[likedovesinthewindd]

give or take; part ten of sore loser ⋆ masterlist

summary: patrick comes to visit | content/warning: explicit language, arguing and light angst | tags: @midwestprincesss | a/n: yes it is short again I'm sorry but also I need ideas on this damn ending yall give me ideas pls!!

Art squints his eyes, his racket rising in the air with precision before he serves. It's near perfect and and you watch attentively as him and his teammate play, your good hand absent-mindedly rubbing over the plaster of your cast.

Watching Art play was always a feast for the eyes, but recently, it had filled you with an uncertain envy. You deeply yearned to be in his position, the weeks until you were gully healed feeling like they were moving at a snailspace.

Your mind had been running wild recently; agitated because you couldn't play, frustrated because you couldn't write or do your work without help and scared at what your future from here looked like. Per your scholarship's terms, they didn't drop you completely, and your coach had promised she would wait until you were healed.

The words were supposed to put you at ease, but your doctor's voice rang in the back of your mind, her concern over how well your wrist would heal based on how bad you had broken it. Her telling you that you could suffer from possible long-term effects.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't immediately register Patrick plopping down next to, only coming to when he nudged your shoulder with his.

Your laugh was like a bell that went off in Art's head, and he looked over to find you wrapping your arms around his friend in greeting. The game was suddenly less important, and he asked his teammate for a break which he begrudgingly agreed to. He made his way over to the two of you, Patrick enveloping him in a tight hug and pulling away to slap his hands against his face playfully.

The three of you cut Art's practice short and made your way to the food court to catch up. Patrick didn't miss the way you decided to sit next to Art, the both of you sitting across from him. He didn't miss the way your thighs rubbed against Art's, his knee playfully nudging yours under the table every now and then and the shy smile he gave you every time you caught his gaze. The three of you were happily catching up before you realized you'd forgotten your gym bag, excusing yourself and leaving the two friends to their own devices.

Patrick looked over at his friend, deep in thought as he bit into his sandwich. "So," Patrick started making Art look up at him with raised eyebrows. "You two?" he asked. "What about us? Art asked through a mouthful. "C'mon," Patrick scoffed. "It's obvious things have gotten a little serious since I've been gone," he reasoned, taking a big gulp of his coke before continuing.

"Have you two been fucking?" he asked what he wanted to ask from the beginning. Art dropped his sandwich, his face scrunching into an appalled expression. "That's none of your business, man," he replied, watching Patrick's smile widen, cheeks balling at the action.

"I thought we told each other everything?" he asked, voice taking on a serious tone despite his smirk. "Why does it bother you so much?" Art asked, already passed irritated. "It doesn't," Patrick lied, "I just can't help but wonder where that leaves me."

Patrick took another bite of his sandwich, finishing it before adding, "I hope you realize this is just a game to her." Another bite at his sandwich. "A conquest. She's using you," he adds bitterly. "What could she possibly be using me for?" Art asked, angered by Patrick's claim, who in return shrugged, that stupid smirk still present on his face. "I dunno. Emotional support, pity, to somehow absorb your skills, sex? You figure it out, Art."

Art's frown deepened, ready to retort at his friend until you sat down in your spot next to him, sparing them both a smile and an out of breath apology. The topic was dropped there, the three of you continuing where you had left them.

It was, however, brought up again a few days later, this time between you and Patrick when the two of you had gone to watch one of Art's matches.

"What happened?" he asked, head nodding down to your hand laid down in your lap. "I broke it while playing," you said, fingers subconsciously flexing in the cast. "How long 'till you can play again?" You sighed, hand subconsciously rubbing over the cast as it always did when you were deep in thought. "Twelve weeks. Give or take." Patrick only hummed, taking a moment to take you in in your entirety.

You looked good – as you always did – but tired, eyes slightly puffy and laced with red, with a soft frown on your pretty face. He almost felt bad for what he was about to do.

He shuffled a little closer, making sure he was right by your ear when he asked, "Does this put your little game on hold now?"

You looked over at him, kissing your teeth when you saw the stupid smirk on his face. "Go fuck yourself," you said softly, grateful the few chairs next to you were open so that no one could hear your outburst. He laughed, hand rubbing over his cheeks and mouth. "You're always so hot and cold," he started. "I'm still not sure if you even like me."

"But you know what I do know?" he asked.

"What," you said, a command for him to continue rather than a question. "I know that you're a bitch," he started, "and that you get off on using people." You scoffed but the smile on your face betrayed you, eyebrows raising at his words. "That's not true," you said, refocusing your attention on Art, but it didn't deter Patrick. Not much could when he had his mind set on something.

"Then what are you doing?" he asked, saying your name like it was bitter in his mouth. You pursed your mouth, dead set on ignoring as you watched Art. "What are you getting out of him now?" he asked again obviously not ready to let the subject go.

"Let me ask you this, Patrick," you looked over at him again. "Are you mad that you 'lost' me or that you feel like you might lose Art?" He groaned, head tipping over the backrest of the chair as he rubbed his face in frustration, and you smiled. "I won't steal your boyfriend, Patrick," you said with a shrug, "I know you need him just as much as you think I do."

"You never answered my question from that night," he said way off topic, "you never chose." You looked at him, green-blue eyes focused on you with an angry expression, so close to you it probably looked odd to anyone watching you. You didn't answer him, turning back to the court as you folded your arms. Patrick followed suit, dropping the subject as his leg bounced in irritation.

✿ ⊹ ˚. part eleven

[makerofmadness]

What's with Balloon Boy and the Daycare Attendant?

The Balloon World arcade machine exists, it's in the DA's room and both characters are involved in it. It's probably one of the most cryptic minigames in the FNAF series as a whole, but while we could ponder what exactly it's supposed to mean (maybe I'll do that for all the security breach minigames eventually), the main question I have is this:

WHY Balloon Boy specifically? Why is the minigame about HIM?

Is there a connection between the two characters? Or was it a completely random decision?

Out of nowhere, thinking about Balloon World, I came to a realization:

The Lights.

Balloon Boy's entire gimmick in FNAF 2 was that if he got into your office, he would disable your flashlight and vent lights (...somehow. I know we all make the jokes about him taking the batteries [and then that FNAF 57: Freddy In Space thing in FNAF World said he just straight-up steals your entire flashlight], but you never see the battery icon disappear or appear empty in FNAF 2 itself when he gets into your office. And the vent lights also stop working, so unless they also operate on batteries, then... does he actually take them from you?).

What's the one rule in the daycare?

Keep the lights on.

His mechanic is the antithesis to what Sun wants and exactly what Moon would want. Balloon Boy doesn't keep the lights on. He prevents you from turning them on at all.

(which also makes me kinda sad there wasn't a Glamrock version of BB. Then again, I don't know how exactly he would've uniquely affected like anything. Regardless I am hoping for the day someone in the fandom makes a glamrock bb who is arch-enemies with sun and gets along well with moon skseijdndndnd-)

It feels kinda obvious and I'm guessing I'm not the only person to think about this, but I have never seen anyone else bring this up. Not on YouTube, not on tumblr, nowhere. Maybe if I go looking for it I'll see, but i'm surprised I haven't bumped into anyone else saying this just naturally. I go into the BB tags a LOT, surely SOMEONE would've said something, right? I don't even see it noted in the trivia on the page for the arcade game on the fnaf wiki.

...but is this supposed to mean anything? Or is it just a cute little reference or callback? it's hard to say, especially with how ambiguous the minigame is.

Though I DID think of ONE thing... (possible minor spoilers for Ruin under the cut):

Saw this pointed out in a youtube video that the BB World screen (with Eclipse, who makes their proper debut in Ruin after effectively being foreshadowed by the minigame in SB's base game) can be seen on the ceiling in the DA's room. Which makes sense, obviously, but also take note of the pirate-themed windows in the hallway leading to it.

...now, which character do most of us tend to associate with Balloon Boy? His "tag-team partner," of sorts?

Foxy. The Pirate.

With this, I found that there's more Foxy-related stuff associated with the daycare area than I had previously realized because I had never made any connections before. I mean, Kids' Cove is directly linked to it for god's sake.

Like. I hope i haven't forgotten to mention anything (I've been writing this post over the course of hours 'Cus I had stuff to do in the middle of it all). My brain's kinda starting to fry. But basically: Was Foxy originally meant to be the Daycare Attendant, in-universe? Was there gonna be a Glamrock Balloon Boy with him, like as his first mate or something??? Were they gonna be connected to Fazbear Theater????? (Uh basically Sun/Moon to my knowledge from confirmation in the books and a lot of more subtle implications in-game mainly involving environmental pieces were originally meant to be in the Fazbear Theater as a stage animatronic but got moved to daycare duty instead and being reprogrammed. Which actually explains a lot about them when you think about it-)

Like. Ok I'm forgetting where I was going with this, I'm sorry, but I guess it's food for thought/adds to the weird connections between DA and BB, I guess. Idk. I can't focus that well right now to keep making new ideas.

felt like sharing my interpretation of the Balloon World minigame itself at least since earlier I did kinda finally get it down concretely:

I kinda developed a theory that Eclipse is Sun/Moon's "safe mode" and that rebooting DA reactivated Eclipse as a result. Like, they're their own AI that was at one point implemented. but then Vanny happened and locked them out thanks to the whole Glitchtrap virus thing (albeit it only seemed to reach Moon, while Sun remains seemingly unaffected. Guessing it's because they're different AIs [finally implied/basically confirmed by their Ruin dialogue). Eclipse has seemingly not been active for some time, or at least never post-pizzaplex closure, given how they're seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that this place is closed with no signs of opening.

So the minigame was foreshadowing Eclipse's existence and implying their "trapped" nature, which also could be seen as paralleling Vanessa's whole "Vanny" situation, especially given how iirc one of the messages related to princess quest can be found near the arcade machine.

[this-is-krikkit]

Hii! If you're taking prompts then can you plz do some levihan on this:

'I've been born in the wrong timeline and the wrong gender!'

'And you realized that after sixteen years?'

hello! you're the first anon i don't feel i have to apologize to for taking too long to reply to a prompt lmao, hope you'll enjoy this!

of swords and crushes (1.4k words)

tags: levihan, modern AU (coffee shop AU if you squint), game of thrones references but you don't need to be a big fan to get em, GOT-typical violence mentioned

divider source

“I’m telling you, I was born in the wrong timeline and the wrong sex!” Hange exclaims, trading their branded apron for their civilian coat and giving a last minute check to the coffee shop for any obvious task they might have forgotten.

Levi clicks his tongue at them, not for the first time that day, and gestures for them to leave out the front door with him.

“And you only realized that after sixteen years, while watching a blockbuster series about sword fights and magic?”

“Yes! No? I don’t know, I just know I want to be a knight!” they whine, using the tone they know their coworker can hardly stand.

“You want to be a knight, or you want to do one of them?”

“Levi! How dare you put your dirty thoughts into my pure and innocent mind!”

“I may not watch that shit show myself, shitty glasses, but I’ve seen enough screen caps and memes to know no one innocent watches it. Not with those casting choices anyway.”

Hange’s glasses reflect the setting sun and hide their eyes even as they grin devilishly at him, and he groans at his own slip up.

“Oh, you’ve seen enough screen caps to have an opinion then? Tell me, which one strikes your fancy, Neat Freak? The sadist bastard who tortures people into becoming his slaves, or the annoyingly rich golden boy who had three kids with his own sister?”

He just stares at them for a minute, then shakes his head as he locks the front door.

“I swear this show gets worse every time I hear about it,” he mumbles under his breath. “Either way, the one I like best has green eyes, and I think his father was in Lord of The Rings or something?”

“Oh… You mean, Robb Stark?”

Levi glares their way, because how the fuck would he know, again? But Hange, as always immune to his stink eye, just pulls their phone out and hands it over after a quick search.

“Here, is that him? Oh my God, you’re blushing, it’s totally him!” they squeal before Levi can even confirm it with words.

“Shut up and help me pull this down,” he requests, gesturing to the iron shutter they have to secure before leaving. “He is cute,” he still feels the need to argue defensively as Hange complies.

They chuckle and bump their shoulder to his when they squat down to help him with the heavy padlock that secures the system in place.

“He is,” they agree with a reassuring smile, before letting a sigh out. “Shame that he dies in season three though.”

“What? I thought he was, like, the main character!”

“Well, he is, until, you know... he gets his throat slit at his cousin’s wedding, right after he sees his pregnant wife getting stabbed straight into her belly.”

Levi picks up his jaw from the floor and turns to face his coworker, waiting to see if there’s any chance they could be trying to pull one on him —they don’t usually have a strong enough poker face to actually trick him, but they’ve surprised him before in the year they’ve been sharing shifts on this shitty part time job.

“She dies too, of course! Along with everyone who was with them then,” Hange adds right away, like that’s somehow reassuring.

“Why the fuck do you watch this shit, Four Eyes?” he asks, genuinely confused about it all.

“Ah, sorry, I know you’re weird about this stuff. We can talk about something else if you want,” they offer with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of their neck in discomfort.

“I’m not weird about it,” Levi corrects, dismissing their concern with a wave of his hand, “and it’s fine to discuss. I just don’t like violence for the sake of violence, or for shock value. Feels lazy to me.”

“That’s not all there is to it!”

He gives them a pointed glance, and Hange has the decency to blush a little.

“Okay, it’s probably a big part of it… But the plot does justify it most of the time so far, and some characters are really interesting and fun to try to figure out, I think you’d enjoy it! Besides, the fighting scenes are so badass, Levi!”

They launch into a mock choreography of what he can only assume is one of those scenes, and Levi doesn’t bother holding back a chuckle as he walks alongside them. He ignores the puzzled looks from people who pass them by, throwing a glare or two whenever someone dares to stare for too long with judging eyes.

“How do you have so much energy after the shift you just pulled on top of a day in class, for fuck's sake? I really feel like I’m the older one here sometimes.”

And alright, Levi does have another, early and demanding job to go to while other kids his age are in school, which might explain his own state of tiredness. But Hange truly is something else, stamina-wise.

“That’s because you’re an old soul, Levi, whereas I’m brand new and enthusiastic about what the world has to offer! And about swords!”

“Yeah, right. Why don’t you sign up to fencing lessons and get it out of your system for good?”

“Sure, let me give up this side job I only took for the fun of it, ask my imaginary butler to fetch my thousand dollars allowance from my billionaire parents and I’ll do just that!”

He bites the inside of his cheek to prevent his smile from stretching too wide, even though he knows Hange will be able to tell they got him with that one anyway.

“Point taken,” he gives in.

The walk back to their subway station is silent, a little less comfortable than usual when they’re both painfully aware that Hange’s now thinking about their own financial issues —the unfortunate reason they even took this job and met Levi in the first place.

He looks around the industrial neighborhood they’re walking, and spots two long rusty metal pipes hanging out from a bin nearby. In a fit of renewed energy he didn’t suspect he could have, he rushes over there, grabs them —heavier than they look, but he knows they can both handle it— and throws one at Hange’s feet.

“Here you go, Sir Hange Zoë,” he declares, feeling absolutely ridiculous as he stands in what he hopes looks like a sword fighting position —he sure hopes Hange will give him a break, it’s not like he has a wide frame of reference for this. “Fight me.”

They chortle, the sound immediately brightening the mood —and Levi’s day.

“You don’t have to do this, Levi. You were right, it’s kind of childish.”

He frowns and charges, hitting their shin lightly with his shabby weapon. Hange’s eyebrows shoot up on their forehead, and he can tell they’re slowly giving in.

“Levi! You can’t attack a defenseless maiden, that’s not gentleman-y at all!”

“You’re not a maiden, dumbass. And who said I’m a gentleman?”

Next time he lunges, they block the blow thanks to their own pipe and send him stumbling back —with a force that would surprise anyone else considering how lanky they look in their baggy clothes, and a fire in their eyes that would no doubt freak them out too. Levi, however, has known for months now that the tall nerdy weirdo look is only a mask hiding a fierce, passionate kid who might just be the strongest person he’s ever met —in more ways than one.

Sadly, they’re also much more —how did they put it again? Oh, right— enthusiastic about the whole fighting thing than he’d foreseen, and he soon finds himself having an actual hard time holding them off. One of their well placed hits shatters the pipe he was holding in his hold, and he thanks his lucky star that the combat has to end as he puts both hands up.

“Alright, I yield! You’re right, Four Eyes, you would have made a great knight.”

“Thank you!” they reply with a wink and a graceless curtsy.

Hange throws their pipe back into the trash can, before holding out their hand to ask for the some of the hand gel Levi’s already rubbing on his palms. He throws them a disapproving look, more for show than anything else, and gives them some —really, he’s kind of excited that they’re finally getting some of his neat freak habits, as they always call them.

“So, I won, right?” they ask him when they start walking again.

“Tch, I guess you did,” he grants them, not up to point out how questionable that statement is when really, breaking your opponent’s weapon has to be against the rules, right?

“Then my prize is... that you have to watch the next season with me!”

He spends the rest of the walk and the three subway stations they share trying to get out of that commitment.

(He fails.)

[bubblegumbi-tch]

I was tagged by longtime silent mutual and absolute book connoisseur with impeccable taste @kajafrompluto to share 6 books I want to read in 2022:

1. This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone

Among the ashes of a dying world, an agent of the Commandant finds a letter. It reads: Burn before reading. Thus begins an unlikely correspondence between two rival agents hellbent on securing the best possible future for their warring factions. Now, what began as a taunt, a battlefield boast, grows into something more. Something epic. Something romantic. Something that could change the past and the future. Except the discovery of their bond would mean death for each of them. There's still a war going on, after all. And someone has to win that war.

This is the most recent on the list after I saw a few quotes. It's wlw, stupidly romantic, and super poetically written so I've heard. You know I'm in. I am a sucker for romances that span lifetimes or longer or have some other timey wimey dimension to them.

2. Authority by Jeff VanDermeer

After thirty years, the only human engagement with Area X—a seemingly malevolent landscape surrounded by an invisible border and mysteriously wiped clean of all signs of civilization—has been a series of expeditions overseen by a government agency so secret it has almost been forgotten: the Southern Reach. Following the tumultuous twelfth expedition chronicled in Annihilation, the agency is in complete disarray. John Rodríguez (aka "Control") is the Southern Reach's newly appointed head. Working with a distrustful but desperate team, a series of frustrating interrogations, a cache of hidden notes, and hours of profoundly troubling video footage, Control begins to penetrate the secrets of Area X. But with each discovery he must confront disturbing truths about himself and the agency he's pledged to serve. In Authority, the second volume of Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach trilogy, Area X's most disturbing questions are answered . . . but the answers are far from reassuring.

This is one where I'm kinda only planning on reading it bc I read the first one bc I watched the film of it and loved it, and can't leave a series unfinished. The first book was ok, it was very disconcerting to read which I think was the point but I was kinda left waiting for something that never happened, and found the writing style a bit slow, but I didn't hate it. I feel like this is the one instance where the film might be better than the book simply due to being able to use visuals to add to that creepy feeling the book had. I liked that the first book, Annhilation, was entirely female centered but didn't make a song and dance about it like look at me I'm a book with solely female characters, rather they just did all the things any male characters would do, but just happened to be women. It looks like each book is centered on a different group so we shall have to see how Authority turns out!

3. As yet unreleased and untitled Dreamer Trilogy book no.3 by Maggie Stiefvater (book one cover used in place)

The majestic conclusion to Maggie Stiefvater’s Dreamer Trilogy. The war between dreams and reality intensifies... with Ronan at its center.

If you know me at all, you'll know I am utterly in love with both this book series and it's preceeding series The Raven Cycle. These characters, this world are all somehow both so vivdly real and magically otherworldy and every time I read one of these books its like coming home to your group of best friends (probably helps that the first series are based around legend from my home country, however minus points for anglicising the names maggie lmao). I adore the way Maggie writes, it's so easy to read, and I love the passion and dedication she has put into these books. I feel her real life interests jump out in them, and it helps that they're often the same as mine have been throughout my life. These books are just super close to my heart and I simultaneously can't wait for October to come so I can get my hands on this third book in this series, and also never want it to come so I never have to finish with this world and these charaters.

4. Milkman by Anna Burns

In this unnamed city, to be interesting is dangerous. Middle sister, our protagonist, is busy attempting to keep her mother from discovering her maybe-boyfriend and to keep everyone in the dark about her encounter with Milkman. But when first brother-in-law sniffs out her struggle, and rumours start to swell, middle sister becomes 'interesting'. The last thing she ever wanted to be. To be interesting is to be noticed and to be noticed is dangerous. Milkman is a tale of gossip and hearsay, silence and deliberate deafness. It is the story of inaction with enormous consequences.

I got a copy of this free from uni like 4 years ago and never got a chance to read past the first chapter, although that first chapter seemed incredibly promising. Not sure what to expect as I've never read anything by this author before, but it seems up my street so I'm optimistic!

5. Icelandic Folk Tales by Hjorleifur Helgi Stefansson (idk how to do the accents on this laptop soz)

Iceland is a country where stories are as important as history. When Vikings settled the island, they brought their tales with them. Every rock, hot spring and waterfall seems to have its own story. Cruel man-eating trolls rub shoulders with beautiful elves, whose homes are hidden from mortal view. Vengeful ghosts envy the living, seeking to drag lost loves into their graves – or they may simply demand a pinch of your snuff. Some of the stories in this collection are classic Icelandic tales, while others are completely new to English translation. Hjörleifur has always been deeply interested in the rich lore of his island. His grandparents provided a second home in his upbringing and taught him much about the past through their own way of life. Hjörleifur is dedicated to breathing fresh life into the stories he loves. He lives on his family farm in Borgarfjörður, and also spends a lot of time in Scotland, where he is becoming renowned on the Scottish storytelling circuit.

Does what it says on the tin really, a collection of easily digestible short icelandic folk tales. This was gifted to me and I'm part way through it already and its proving to be a great gift. Some are funny, some are dark, some appear to make little sense at all as folk tales are. Definitely up my street and I love how bitesize they are, as unfortunately my attention span and free time have decreased dramatically recently lol.

6. You Will Get Through This Night by Daniel Howell

"There’s a moment at the end of every day, where the world falls away and you are left alone with your thoughts. A reckoning, when the things you have been pushing to the background, come forward and demand your attention." Written by Daniel Howell, in conjunction with a qualified psychologist, in an entertaining and personal way from the perspective of someone who has been through it all—this no-nonsense book gives you the tools to understand your mind so you can be in control and really live. Split into three chapters for each stage of the journey: This Night - how to get through your toughest moments and be prepared to face anything. Tomorrow - small steps to change your thoughts and actions with a big impact on your life. The Days After - help to look after yourself in the long term and not just survive, but thrive. You will laugh and learn—but most of all, this book will assure you that even in your darkest times, there is always hope.  You will get through this night.

I put off buying this for so long bc not only am I super skeptical of self help books, but self help books by youtubers?? Hmm. But seeing how passionate Dan was and is about this book and how much of himself he's put into it I couldn't help it. Say what you like about him or the people that watch his content but he's one of, if not the only one of the OG youtube lot that has held my interest up until now (and hansn't had some sort of horrific scandal lmao), and you cannot deny, he is a good egg who has remained himself throughout his career and hasn't let fame change who he is. He has integrity. And what he is doing with his career now is something mature and thoughtful and I'm fully behind him. I have read bits and pieces of this already, but just dip into every now and again when I feel like it. For a self help book, it is actually pretty great. I feel like I can hear Dans voice as I read his mix of sarcastic, self depreciative humour, and serious talking points. It's very him, and quite comforting, as he's been in the background of a lot of my life in one way or the other, and continues to do so, albeit in a very different way with this book.

-

Wow, this ended up being long! I wanted to put a little blurb to each book though to encourage others to read them too if they like the sound of them!

To do this next (if they want) I tag @two-cupsofcoffee @gaym3bo1@bitchyglittercreator and @clotpoleincamelot

[maplecornia]

chapter 24

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.94K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: things are getting heavyyy

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo

If you're still enough, you can hear the inner whispers of your heart.

Have you noticed?

You're able to hear everything you have kept locked away. It tries to break through the cage, and you can feel the chains growing weaker and weaker with each passing moment. Each tick of the clock drawing closer and closer to the moment where you can no longer hold it in.

Where you finally break down.

Taehyung sighs and leans back in his chair, the meeting room now empty and dark. It's hard to believe that at the break of day it was filled with conflict and torn decisions.

-

"I'm against it."

At the sound of Yoongi's sharp dismissal, it's as though the room wakes up. Some in protest, some in shock. Suga raises his brow at the reaction, almost scoffing when he sees it.

"It's too much of a risk." He sighs almost in contempt. "If you want her so badly, why not sign her with Source or Pledis? They're our shareholders for a reason. Plus, since we're all under HYBE it will be exactly like she were a BigHit affiliation. Given the way this industry runs, however, she's probably best out of Kpop and should be signed under HYBE America. After all, she is a foreigner."

Though they are harsh, his words make sense. This would be the most logical approach rather than breaking their ban on female trainees. They made the ban for a reason, Yoongi doesn't understand why they would throw that away for someone who is slightly talented.

Besides, what about every other talented girl before her?

What reason should she have to achieve the dream which they were denied?

"I have to agree with Yoongi," Jin speaks up, his brow furrowed in concentration. "She has a unique and beautiful voice, that much is true. It'd be a shame to let it go, but if you think about it, we wouldn't be letting it go. Giving it to another company under HYBE might provide a better chance for her in the industry."

Taehyung bites his lip, not liking where this is going.

Jin glances around the table, hesitating before he says his next piece.

"We just got back, can we trust that they'll accept us if we do this? Next thing you know there'll be rumors of a scandal."

Though it was all on their minds, it still hurts to hear it out loud.

Can they trust ARMY to be there for them this time?

"It is a bit concerning. She'll be the only female trainee in an all-male company. Can you imagine the rumors? The field day Dispatch would have? She'd be hated before she even had a chance to show them her worth." Jhope murmurs under his breath, his eyes sparkling with deep worry.

They've all faced that. The fear of being hated for just being you. For existing without the mask.

"But I liked her," Jimin says, leaning forward. Though his words are simple, they are said with the most sincerity. "She's someone you hardly ever see, her voice stays with you, it doesn't leave. It's the kind that people can't get enough of. That's something special...shouldn't we take that into account?"

Biting his inner cheek, Taehyung glances up at BangPD, wondering if he knows. Did Jungkook tell him? He knew about Yen, why wouldn't he have found out about him as well?

If only he hadn't saved that recording. If only he hadn't been so careless, then none of this would have happened.

Somehow he feels as though those moments are being stolen from him.

"Jimin has a point, Yoongi. Did you hear her?" Jin speaks up, his gaze glazing over as though he were looking into the distance. Or recalling a long forgotten memory. Yoongi scoffs and smirks bitterly.

"Of course I did, I have ears."

"Are you sure?" Jin mutters in response, but it's almost as though Yoongi can't hear him.

"Think of this realistically, you have to know there's zero to no chance of her making it. Even if she's talented." There's a moment of uncomfortable silence at his words, words which no one wanted themselves to say. Sighing, Suga gestures towards Namjoon.

"Come on, Joon back me up here."

The room turns to Namjoon, waiting to hear his response.

He stays silent for a moment, his hand resting on his chin as he ponders the situation, his deep eyes calculating moves and countermoves. Possible situation and solutions.

All while trying to forget that the possible trainee is Yen.

Biting his bottom lip, he can't help but remember the way she was in the studio. How her eyes lit up with unimaginable love and devotion. A look only a fellow artist would be able to recognize. She was made for this, he can tell. She yearns to sing, to be lost in music, enveloped in a world of her own making. To be able to share that with others.

Looking over at BangPD, he narrows his eyes thoughtfully.

"What are you planning to do?"

Yoongi's eyes widen at Namjoon’s question, and he leans back, looking to BangPD's response. Bang Sihyuk smiles softly, almost as though he expected this.

For some reason, that look irks Taehyung.

Don’t think you can control us. We weren’t made for your chessboard.

"It will be on a purely trial basis. I am planning to sign her as a trainee, but the public will not know about it until I am sure that she will be a good addition." He looks towards Suga, pointedly directing his next statement towards him. "I understand your concerns for her. After all, she would be our first female trainee for a while."

Suga bites his inner cheek in protest, leaning back in his chair and brooding.

"However, I have been planning this for a while now." The room goes silent with the revelation as they turn to him, waiting for him to reveal more. "Ever since you've left for the military, I've been thinking of possible trainees to recruit for a new girl group. The first girl group to be officially under BigHit entertainment. They would be managed, produced, and signed underneath our label. Not through a loophole like BE:LIFT, Source Music, or Pledis. This would be ours and ours alone."

Jimin shakes his head in confusion. "Why now? What changed?"

BangPD sighs, his careful eyes scanning the room in a calm and collected manner.

"I don't know entirely myself." He rubs his face before continuing, playing with the portfolio of Yen. "I thought it was time to expand our horizons, to try something new...I guess you could say I was inspired."

He glances towards Namjoon, and Joon can't help but remember that day all those years ago.

The day when BangPD proposed a plan, an inspiration to him, not quite unlike this one.

Namjoon’s brow furrowed in concentration, he turns to your smiling photo, still spread across the table.

Was it you?

Were you the reason for this inspiration?

"In any case, before I moved any further, I wanted to see if things would work out with her. One trainee. I didn't want to make a mistake like last time, hence the trial period." Bang Sihyuk continues, swaying a bit in his chair.

"Who would train her?" Taehyung mutters underneath his breath, unable to look away from your photo this whole time. Turning to BangPD, his eyes are aflame with conviction. "If we have our normal staff take part in her training, we won't be able to control who else could find out. If her existence were to be completely secret, who could we trust?"

It's a valid question, but Taehyung doesn't like the glint Sihyuk gets in his eyes at the notion. Silently, he wishes he never spoke up. Maybe then he would've been able to stay under the radar, and BangPD would never have to suspect he had any affiliation with the girl.

With Yen.

"You would."

Two words is all it takes.

Two words and the room is in an uproar.

"What are you talking about?! We have enough on our plate with our comeback, and now you expect us to train a girl who shouldn't even be here in the first place?!" Yoongi is so outraged that he stands, his chair rolling back into the wall.

"Yoongi, calm down--" RM begins, but Suga isn't willing to listen to anyone at the moment.

"Do you have any idea how much pressure we're under? And now you want to add an inexperienced trainee to our list of burdens just because she can sing?!" he snarls, his lip curling in disgust, his eyes dark with anger.

"Yoongi-hyung, you heard her voice. You have to admit that we found something here." Jungkook speaks up, meekly. Taehyung narrows his eyes his way.

Just what does Jungkook get out of all this? Taehyung knows he has to be the one who gave BangPD the file of your voice. He was the only other one there, besides Taehyung. Taehyung himself couldn’t bring himself to give you the flash drive, but Jungkook didn’t even think to tell you. He went straight to BangPD as though this were his decision to make. Did he even think of asking you what you thought?

What’s your angle?

Yoongi rolls his eyes, gesturing to the portfolio on the table.

"Yeah, we found something. But not something worth risking everything we built over!"

"Don't you think you're being a dramatic? We aren't even sure if this will work out. It's just a trial, and it's the best option for us to train them given the situation." Namjoon murmurs, rationally. Suga's eyes flame with defiance at the rebuttal and slams his hand on the table.

"And what happens if word gets out before we're ready?"

The room goes silent with the ultimatum, and they all avoid his gaze.

"What happens when we're the cause of her downfall?"

Glancing at each other, they ponder the question. A question that has weighed heavily on them ever since they debuted, ever since they became the star in the public's eye. Ever since the world knew about the boy group...

BTS.

Scowling, Yoongi pulls away.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't have time for this. I have work to do, work that has been waiting for us for 2 years! Or did you all forget our promise?" When they don't answer him, he scoffs, pulling his backpack on his shoulder and walking out the door. "I'll see you at practice."

There's a moment of silence as soon as Yoongi leaves, silence uncomfortable and pressing. Licking his lips in nervous anticipation, Hoseok looks at the rest of them, almost unsure.

"Is he going to be okay?"

BangPD leans forward, folding his hands on the table.

"Don't worry about Yoongi, I'll talk to him later. But what about the rest of you?"

His quick, analytical eyes scan the table, hovering over every one of them. Almost as if he were trying to predict what exactly they would say next.

"Do you agree?"

-

Now, Taehyung grits his teeth. His grip tightening around the water bottle he was playing with in his hands, he throws it across the wall. As he watches it crumble at the force, he finds the ruin in his mind easing. Water drips off of the wall, and he feels a sort of sadistic satisfaction at the sight of destruction.

Now he’s not the only one broken.

But once that fades, he's left once more with his memories and his regret.

"Dammit." He groans, dropping his face in his hands hopelessly.

-

Standing, Tae grabs Jungkook by the hand before he can follow the rest of them out. The door shuts behind them, leaving only him and Jungkook in the meeting room, an uneasy silence hanging over them. With words they need to say, questions waiting to be answered.

"Taeh--" Jungkook begins, but in his rush, Tae interrupts him.

"Were you there?"

The silence that blossoms between them grows to a deafening roar as Jungkook gently pulls away from Taehyung's firm hold. It creates a bitter but necessary distance between the two of them. It lets them know that they're different, that what happened back then was something that belonged to one as much as it did the other.

"You heard her too, didn't you?" Jungkook murmurs, his words turning Taehyung's blood cold. Smiling softly, Jungkook runs his hands through his hair. "I saw you as you were leaving, you were the one who recorded her, aren't you?"

Biting his bottom lip, Tae can't answer. Even though he knows that moment wasn't his, even though he knows that his ideas of fate and chance have been destroyed, he's unable to admit to it. He can't find it in him to voice the fact that he was there, that he gave birth to her chance, and he wanted it to be his and his alone.

Jungkook chuckles nervously at the silence before speaking once more.

"I wonder...why didn't you have the same idea as me?"

-

His hands tangled up in the locks of his hair, Taehyung stares at the slick wooden table, his heart in knots and his mind jumbled.

"Why didn't I?" he mutters to himself, a soft whisper that lingers empty on the air. "Why couldn't I say anything?"

Pulling away from the table, where Yen's future was decided this morning, he swallows hard. By the end of the day, he found himself lingering around this room, the studio, anyplace that reminded him of her.

Laughing bitterly, he rubs his forehead.

"Why..." He whispers, holding his phone tightly to his chest.

"Why can't I forget you?"

Biting his bottom lip, he quickly messages you, having the sudden urge to see you. Maybe then, would he realize what he can't find? Would he be able to create another memory, another moment in time? One that was yours and yours alone?

After a couple of moments, you don't answer.

Maybe...I was just afraid of letting go.

Standing almost decisively, he rushes out of the room, and down the hallways of the building.

I need to know.

As he rides the same elevator you rode yesterday down to the lobby, he holds his phone tighter in his hand.

If I don't find out now, I may never get another chance.

Desperate, he sends another message to you.

One more time.

Catching his face in the metallic walls of the elevator, he can't help but imagine yours smiling up at him. A face that makes everything seem alright again.

That's all I need.

What happens when that is taken away from him? What happens when he can no longer see the person who gives him courage? Biting his lip, he can feel the pain in his chest grow.

Just let me see you one more time.

He doesn't want to let you go.

As the elevator dings and he steps out, he pauses, seeing Namjoon right in front of him. Namjoon glances up, his eyes glazed over and tired, but when he sees Tae, they widen in recognition. Taehyung smiles inwardly to himself, he knows this look. A look lost in the wilderness of creativity and desolation.

"Oh, Taehyung!" he says, and Taehyung nods to him curtly before brushing past him and continuing to the front door. Namjoon, however, catches him by the wrist and Tae pauses, turning around.

"Namjoon?" His face is blank, but something in his eyes tells Tae to be wary. They are sort of dark, not really there, but urgent and anxious. Taehyung wonders how eyes can hold so many words, and yet tell you nothing at all.

"You knew, didn't you?"

At his words, Tae blinks, his heart pounding.

"I..."

"That's why you followed her, how you knew about her injury."

How does he know?

"When were you going to tell me?"

Biting his bottom lip, Taehyung can't help but feel a bit of aggravation towards his older friend. Why can't he keep anything to himself? Why is it a crime for him to live his own life, without everyone looking in? Yanking his arm out of Namjoon's grip, he scowls, turning on his heel.

"When it became your business."

Namjoon stands there, a bit in shock before rushing forward and taking Tae forcibly by the arm once more.

"Taehyung, wait!" At his touch, Tae tries to pull away, but Namjoon won't budge, his eyes desperate and wild. They unnerve Taehyung, make him want to escape, hide away until everything turns back to normal again. "If she's going to become an idol, any affiliation you have with her will only hurt her."

Tae's eyes widen at his words, snapping a hidden string he didn't know he had inside of him. RM doesn't notice, instead, his grip tightens around Tae until he feels as though he's suffocating from the inside out.

"You know that right?"

Gritting his teeth, Tae pulls away from Namjoon, staggering back until he's a good distance away. Raising his eyes to his hyung, Namjoon finds a look he's never seen in his younger friend before.

Loathing.

"Don't act as though you know everything." He spits before turning away and walking out of the door.

Namjoon sighs as he watches him leave before glancing over at the now empty lobby. The lobby where just a day ago, he met a sweet, cheerful girl. Someone who filled his mind with inspiration and wonder.

Smiling sadly, he rubs the back of his neck, looking up at the sky as though that will offer him the answers he seeks.

"Just who are you, Yen?"

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: this one was actually pretty hard to write, i'm ngl ;-;

chapter 25 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[justiceraffles]

"Hey, what if MK was a horribly written telenovela with a poorly conceived mystery storyline that's tied together in the most precarious of ways with nonsensical plotpoints and was also endgame Hakukai" So here's the start to my Hakukai longfic! I have a lot of things to say about this story so I'll just ramble about it at length beneath the cut if anyone's interested in my nonsense notes. Otherwise,

Read Here

I've been working on this thing on and off for a year and a half now, it lives rent free in my head every day and has been editted, restructured, and rewritten a lot. I've been very apprehensive about sharing it. ...To be honest, I still am! It's a chaotic story where I just allowed myself to write the most self-indulgent thing I could muster. This entire plot is an amalmagation of random things and ideas I like. It feels like a niche concept that is very messy and ???¿¿¿¿??? why did I make this

But, I guess that also makes it a very "me" story, so having fun with it and writing something that just brought me joy is what matters most, ultimately.

(aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

I'm very thankful to everyone who has read the outline and concept for it or just listened to me ramble about the incoherent plot and characters or cheering me on when I've been kinda anxious about it— it's thanks to that support despite this being such a specific and ¿¿¿ idea that I've found the courage to actually share it. I'm very grateful and I hope you guys can enjoy something in it o)-(

So, about the fic,

It's a story about Hakuba! I think we are all well aware that jokes about his long absences and infrequent appearances are very commonplace (where in the world is hakuba saguru??? TT) and it unfortunately leads to him being forgotten and overlooked often. The initial concept that inspired this fic was "Hey, what if Hakuba stopped showing up for real?" and explore the implications this would have on the MK storyline (and Kaito, by extension). I wanted to make a plot where he was allowed to be the protagonist of his own story, highlight his worth as a detective, his role in the main narrative, and the depth of his relationship with Kaito. It's a Hakuba Saguru Appreciation fic, first and foremost!

So, the romance itself is very slow burn. There is a lot of plot, because I have a lot of fun with ridiculous, contrived stories haha. It takes a while for the story to be fully set up, and Kaito doesn't make a proper, official appearance until the end of Chapter 2.

Chapter 1 is rather lengthy and sets the context and plot from Hakuba's POV, Chapter 2 focuses on establishing where his relationship with Kaito (as well as Aoko and Akako) stands at the moment, and Chapter 3 onward starts seeing the first proper developments in the relationship.

It's a bit rocky at first and they have a lot of ups and downs but I promise they work it out (I promise!!! I swear!!!) I tried my best to maintain a balance between the fluffy and angsty moments, but I have to admit it's quite dramatic at parts lol I enjoy stupid, trashy drama a lot sometimes— this is the reason I'm calling it a bad telenovela.

Despite the fact that this is very plotty, their feelings for each other are the guiding force behind the storyline, and their relationship does take center stage later on. The romance is in no way secondary, it just takes a long while to fully develop. They most definitely get a happy ending, but you can expect this to be 95% pining.

The story starts out some years after the current events in the MK manga. Pandora hasn't been found yet, and KID is still active. On the other hand, the DC canon is used very loosely; the conflict has long since been resolved. The BO was taken down years before the start of this story.

The two plots aren't too deeply intertwined here, they just intercept at parts. References to DC events appear here and there and some elements and character interactions overlap, but they tend to be minor for the most part. This is primarily a MK story and I wasn't too worried about completely integrating both plotlines (or staying 100% accurate to the DC plot, for that matter).

Of course, because this is MK-centric, Aoko and Akako are involved with the overarching story and have major roles to play.

In terms of DC characters, Masumi, Shiho, Heiji and Shinichi play semi-prominent roles in the story. I've tagged Masumi from the getgo because she appears in the first chapter, but I'll add the others when I get to the little arcs they show up in. Save for some specific contributions they have, they aren't too deeply involved with the overall plot progression, but the interactions Hakuba has with them are important for his character development and his better understanding of his relationship with Kaito. Basically each of these characters gets some sort of little story arc in which they interact with/help Hakuba in some way. I arbitrarily chose who I wanted him to interact with, lol.

Speaking of arbitrary decisions— Miss Masumi!!!! She's the first character that shows up in this and interacts with Hakuba. I understand this is probably a strange choice. Because I really wanted to flesh out Hakuba's detective methods and life in London a little more, I decided to use the very what if headcanon of Hakuba's maternal family and the Sera family being acquainted with each other. Like I said before, I didn't really want to connect DC and MK plots thoroughly, so the Akai family plotline isn't at all relevant here beyond a couple of passing mentions. I was mostly interested in Hakuba having an MI6 connection without the need of using another OC and I just wanted to imagine what a hypothetical dynamic between him and Masumi would be like.

And then, OCs. There's a couple of OCs with pretty major roles here as well. Really major— probably in equal measure to Aoko and Akako. I apologise in advance! I really needed them to properly build the detective/mystery aspect of the plot, and the more I wrote, the more they became involved with the story and relationship progression TT I really enjoyed writing them a lot, and I'm satisfied with how they turned out here. I understand OCs with prominent roles aren't everyone's cup of tea, though. Even though I enjoyed writing them, I'm a little self-conscious about how relevant they ended up being when they were originally just going to be there as a plot device to kickstart things ;;; Hopefully someone can find enjoyment in them nonetheless. They are most heavily involved with the story after the midpoint, but they appear all throughout.

I'm really nervous about the choices to have Masumi and major OCs in this story...I understand it is likely these things will make this story a little too niche. But!!!!!!!!! Again!!!!!!!!!!!!! Having fun with it is what matters most Raffles!!!!!!!!!!!!! Get that through your thick skull!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, please expect the most convoluted explanation to Pandora. There is a lot of made up lore I had a blast writing but it's all probably needlessly complicated.

In summary, it's a detective story starring Hakuba that somehow ended up reading like a dramatic post-breakup/getting back together soap opera.

A significant portion of this has been prewritten, so my (ideal) plan is to have weekly or biweekly updates (but hmmmm let's see how long that lasts until I decide to scrap and rewrite everything out of embarrassment— this is very likely, I second-guess myself a lot)

I keep dragging it through the mud, but I've actually had a blast writing it, even though there's A Lot going on and I'm not very confident in it being decent enough to share.

With all that, I hope someone else can maybe find some enjoyment reading it.

[swishandflickwit]

a million nights i've lived this quiet (i need to know if you hear this too) — 1/1

Summary: “That looks dangerous.”

“I eat danger for breakfast,” he snits, tone dry as a desert and the effect just as unpleasant.

She raises an unimpressed brow.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Toph.”

He smirks.

“That one’s on your brother, actually.”

“Figures,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes.

zutara + haircut

Ratings: General Audiences

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: unbeta'd, fluff, fluff without plot, haircut, hugs, hand holding, canon divergence (i think?), sozin's comet, set somewhere in the old masters (because as usual, we throw canon in the blender), generally a lot of wholesomeness all around, gratuitous use of sun and water metaphors (as you do when it comes to zutara), basically zuko and katara share a quiet moment before canon hits the fan lol

AN: i see a lot of zutara post agni-kai but what about zutara pre-agni kai huh?

Title from: wanna know by sabrina claudio

Other song inspirations include: frozen also by sabrina claudio and this version of chasing cars originally by snow patrol, covered by the wind and the wave. highly recommended listening.

Also on: ff.net | AO3

Other writing

Tagging: @jerkbend by request! hope you enjoy this one bb <3

-//////-

"That looks dangerous." 

He doesn't chuckle, but neither is he quick enough to suppress the tug curling at the right corner of his lips—his mirth incontestable even through the warped looking glass from which she views him, stood as she is at the opening flap of his uncle's tent.

By the time she fully steps into the living quarters, his face is schooled into the deeply discontented, partly pained-to-be-alive glower he so favors.

"I eat danger for breakfast," he snits, tone dry as a desert and the effect just as unpleasant.

She raises an unimpressed brow.

"You've been spending too much time with Toph."

He smirks.

"That one's on your brother, actually."

"Figures," she mutters with a roll of her eyes. "What with half his brain being in his stomach..."

The laughter that the gibe yanks from the firebender is biting and brief, but Katara's breath hitches at the sound all the same. She latches on to it, holds it somewhere between her throat and chest, not too distant from the pitifully hollow space in her heart that she isolates from the bitter, ugly parts of her that are forged in battle and conflict.

"Should you…" is there a delicate way to phrase such a question? No, judging by the dirty look he throws her way, guessing at her thoughts, no there is not. She stifles the giggles bubbling at her throat with herculean effort, before remarking rather bluntly, "Are you qualified to handle that?"

He maintains his glare a second more before bowing his head and releasing a hot huff of air towards the ground in resignation. He places the mirror—from which the whole of their interactions had been exchanged thus far—atop the low table in front of him, then shifts so the entirety of his figure faces her. When he lifts his gaze, the veil of gloom that so frequents his visage has dissipated enough to allow a brittle smile to peek through.

"Probably not," he concedes with an amiability uncommon to his appearance. "Will you help me?"

But she likes the way the expression settles on him. It quells the ragged contours of his scar, somehow—his eyes seemingly unburdened by the sorrow he often declines to share, for once. As if in putting breath and voice to the request, he's quieted the ghosts of his troubled past for the moment to be fully present, here. 

With her.

So when his metal-ladden hand falls almost shyly towards her, his stare gentle but no less piercing in its signature, sun-blessed intensity—obscured as they are by his unruly, ebony tendrils—she smiles. It is a fragile thing, muscles straining as they pull from the recesses of memories she also staunchly refuses to be tainted by war, but there—its sweetness shaped after her mother's loving lullabies, built in her father's effervescent embrace, and fashioned from each of her friends' unconquerable spirits. 

She catches him, fingers winding into the shears in his grasp, and there is nothing for her than to accept.

"So what do you wanna do," she starts, eager to dispel the solemn atmosphere. "Some more layers? A buzz cut? Oh!" she nicks at the air experimentally, gleefully. "How about we just cut everything off?"

"You look way too happy to have an excuse to point that thing at me. That very sharp, very death-inducing thing."

"Shut up!" This time she lets her laughter loose, shoving at him playfully so that he's once again turned to the wooden chabudai. "Seriously," she cajoles until he picks up the mirror and through it, she glimpses his sedate mien. The levity in her demeanor fades, pitch dipping instead to match his contemplative stare. "What do you want?"

"I've been asked that a lot this past year," he sighs, bending his legs into a lotus position before slumping in on himself. "Yet I don't think I've ever really given a straight answer."

Task temporarily forgotten, she abandons the scissors at her feet to squeeze both his shoulders in reassurance. "Well whatever it is, I won't judge, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know. You're a great friend," he leans into her touch, and she beams at both the declaration and the rare show of guileless affection. "Fortune rarely sees fit to favor me but I'm really lucky I get to call you so."

The gravity of his proclamation has distress roiling like a tsunami underneath her skin, tempered only by the tinge of whimsy that weaves itself into his articulation. More curious than concerned now (although the stale taste of it lingers on her tongue), she lets her alarm abate at his unexpected resonance. She folds into a seiza at his left, fingers trailing the stalwart line of his back as she goes before placing them serenely on her lap, in absolute symmetry to their figures from last night. And just like she did then, she does so again now, ears at the ready and heart wide open so she can be the friend he needs, someone deserving of his reverence.

(Someone, she thinks as flickers of retrospection—of fighting against him slowly evolving into fighting with him—burst into brilliant clarity, worthy to be at his side.)

"You asked what I wanted," he rasps, low and tenuous.

He meets her stare and she hopes the encouragement in her chest burns soft like an ember through her eyes, enough to fuel the feeling of safety that ignites all too easily the more they orbit each other's presence. He inhales deep in a way that is familiar from his meditations then releases, a surrender in the exhalation—as if his apprehensions could drift away in the warm gale.

"Peace," he whispers, breaking their connection to look down at his fidgeting hands. The revelation is wrapped in such unfettered fear, as if in admitting the longing he has secured its impossibility instead of the inevitability she knows it to be, and she aches for him. "I want to put a stop to the bloodshed, an end to the suffering of both my people and yours and the rest of the nation. I want there to be a place for my soldiers to come home to. I want my mom," he sighs shakily, "and for no child to ever feel what it's like to lose a parent and for no parent to have to fear for the lives of their children as they're forced to this—this—needless slaughter. I want Toph's parents to see her for the capable woman that she is and for Suki's fellow warriors, her family, to be okay. I wish Sokka's plan succeeds, whatever it may be, and that I could guarantee your father's safety and that of your tribe. I wish my sister wasn't so messed up and that I didn't have to keep relying on my uncle to clean up after me when he's already lost so much to this fight. I wish the Spirits weren't so cruel as to put the fate of the world on the shoulders of a twelve-year old. I wish—I wish I could take back the past year, the past hundred years. I wish I could make up for all of it. I wish…" his gaze darts to her neck, digits hovering just shy of the luminescent pendant there, but not touching. 

"I wish I could bring her back for you." He drops his fingers before he can make contact. His whole body wilts with the motion before he tightens his hand to a fist at his thigh. He shakes his head, craning it towards the ceiling where he directs his smile, devoid of any humor when he adds, "But yeah, a trim should do it."

Her heartbeat is loud in her ears in the wake of the silence his confession inflicts. The weight of his monumental aspirations sits heavy on her chest yet strangely enough, it doesn't leave her shaky. If anything, it strengthens her, grounds her, lends fire to the ice in her veins so when she moves, it's with the lofty grace she knows she possesses but doesn't always feel—the skill of a master and the experience of a hardened soldier encased in her fourteen-year-old bones.

But she is grateful for it anyway, when she positions herself at his back and the scissors don't tremble in her grasp when she loops her fingers around it.

"Yeah," she murmurs right back, smoothing her digits through surprisingly silky locks. "Yeah, I can do that."

She doesn't deign to push her skill given how dim it is—both inside and out, the sun sequestered by its billowing companions like it's taken refuge because it knows the blazing, celestial wildfire to come—and that there isn't much to cut in the first place. His tresses are at that awkward length of too long to be considered short but too short to be tied up into a bun or tail. So she merely evens out what she can, tidying stray tufts and snipping at scraggily ends, grappling at any excuse to keep her hands on him. And when that same excuse runs thin—because there's only so much she can cleave before she makes good on her drollery and indeed hacks it all off—she summons the dew drops hugging the blades of grass from outside the former general's tent. She glides the ribbon of water where her hands cannot reach, siphoning the severed hairs from his person and his clothes, before discarding the soiled glob completely.

"Thank you, Katara," he mumbles, though his focus remains on the distortion his image projects on the once cast-aside mirror, particularly on his marred skin. She wants to do something about the melancholy etching his warped effigy—a stark contrast to the hue of near-tranquility that had painted itself beautifully across his pale, elegant features—so she resumes her place at his left, sitting side-saddle with her left hand propping her up and her legs curved comfortably behind him. She narrows her vision onto his profile—the pucker of his mouth, the acuate bridge of his nose, and the graceful sweep of his jaw—then lays down her query with dogged finality.

"Will you do something for me?"

"Name it," he vows in that inordinately earnest manner of his, his countenance brightening enough to keep the deceitful umbrages at bay, that she feels almost bad for asking. "Name it and it's done."

She tuts. "I can't promise it will make up for everything, and it certainly won't be easy."

"I'm used to the fight." There is no arrogance in his enunciation, only a steeliness and determination that is uniquely Zuko. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"You promise?"

"I swear it, on my uncle's life—my mother's, wherever she may be—my nation—"

"Your honor?"

He chuckles—a little broken, a little watery and not enough amusement—but does accede. "Especially on that."

"Then forgive yourself, Zuko." He drops the looking glass in shock, head abruptly swiveling towards her in a dazzling collision of blue and amber, though she does not cower—her own renowned stubbornness stoking her fortitude when she simply holds his scrutiny. "And live. Live to see your soldiers come home. Live to reunite families, to find your mother. Live long enough to create the peace you seek, and to revel in this new world you will help rebuild, help heal. Because Aang's going to save the world. But you? You're going to change it."

I hope I'm there with you when you do, she wants to say, for he may not be able to alter the past but the future—

The future will be his to shape.

So she blinks back the mysterious haze in her eyes and swallows against the lump in her throat, and teases him instead, "I mean, you're not half as useless as I thought you were after all, so you could definitely do it."

"Your vote of confidence is astounding," his inflection is wry, but she is an excellent student and he had fast become her favorite subject. She knows him, and sees the carefully cultivated rancor for the barrier that it is, hoarding all the anguish and the grief but all that overwhelming love, too, that he is so hesitant to give. And who could blame him? When he's been shunned to darkness for every moment he's attempted to part with his vulnerability. All that radiance too afraid to shine, and she wants to tell him to let the light in.

(If Aang won't kill Ozai then she will convince—not that it would take much—Toph to dig the deepest, murkiest, most rodent-infested hole for the monster who dared to smother his own son's flame.)

"And I guess," she toys with rescinding, then thinks better of it, trading banter for sincerity when she unfurls his still-clenched fist and slides her fingers in the spaces between his. "Maybe I like having you around."

And, oh, but there it is—the soaring of the dawn, and all the exaltation of new beginnings it brings with it, in the exquisite harmony of his golden gaze.

"So," he hums, twirling the tawny ringlet right by her collarbone round his pointer before tucking it behind her ear. She reels with the gesture, tilting into his space. "Forgive myself, huh?"

"And live, of course," she miffs, albeit wetly. "If not for yourself, then for your uncle who loves you dearly." She tips her chin up defiantly, daring him to contradict her. "For all of us, who love you dearly."

"Is that all?" He rolls his eyes but that elusive, frolic quirk toils with his lips. He inclines his head until their noses are but a scant few millimeters apart, buzzing impishly, "Anything else I can do?"

"Actually," she hems, stroking at a badly-hewn strand by his cheek with just a pinch of regret before resolving not to volunteer for the act of cutting his hair again in the foreseeable future. "There is." 

She bites her lip, wondering if she should request it at all before ultimately throwing caution to the wind. "We still have some time. Can we just pretend for a little while…" but no, the thought of ignoring the war even for a few minutes reeks too much of Lake Laogai so she amends. "Just stay here with me, please? Just—" 

She brings their joined hands to his chest where she can sense his heartbeat, as strong and as steady as the soul it vivifies. With the tip of her finger from her other hand, she traces the frame of his too-tense lips until it is slack with repose, trails a featherlight pathway to the outer ridges that make up the border of his scar. 

"Be quiet with me."

Those scorching orbs dance about her visage like the flickers of a candle—except he is more wax than flame when she cups his scabrous flesh, and he melts into her caress.

"I would do it just because you asked," he utters in the most dulcet of notes, and she is honored, for she recognizes the tenderness for the offering that it is. "Whatever happens out there, I'm glad it's you," he sighs, just once more. "I'm glad it's you with me."

"Together," she agrees, chin slumping onto his shoulder for purchase at the alluring giddiness his words incite. She is whirling, unmoored, until the digits of his own free hand anchor at the downy arch of her waist. He nudges, and she ebbs into a pool of untouchable calm on his lap, awash as she is in the current of him.

She closes her eyes, and when he follows suit, content to flow at her pace like he always does in return, a piece of her she hadn't even realized was aslant slots right into place.

They are hours away from the most important battle of their lives, one in which its outcome could very well destine the course of the next hundred years. Katara will not know the caliber of her entreaty, the importance of his promise, until the comet is at its zenith and her life is a paroxysmal brand seared across his middle like a supernova.

But for now, foreheads touching and their fingers seamlessly twined right above his vibrantly thrumming heart, she stows this moment beneath her ribcage, right in that war-untouched trove that pulses to the rhythm of his heart.

They are steeped in stillness, disrupted only by the din of the busy camp, and even that fades away as their breathing syncs.

Somewhere outside, the sun coasts along the heavens, beams of brilliance wrestling against its adumbrate prison. 

The clouds part, feeble rays snagging at the canvas archway of their shelter.

The light pours in.

The shadows recoil.

And together, they shine.

-//////-

AN: okay this was supposed to be an exercise in brevity and restraint but uh, i don't think i succeeded?? but given that my goal was less than 2k and we're clocking this in at 2.8k, all things considered, i see this as an absolute win lmao so if you would be so kind as to let me know if you liked it, that would be stupendous!

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